


Croatoan (SEASON TWO, EPISODE NINE)

by ackles_ass_equation



Series: Superghetto [32]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Related, Croatoan Virus, Croatoans, Episode: s02e09 Croatoan, Screenplay/Script Format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 15:13:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7057690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ackles_ass_equation/pseuds/ackles_ass_equation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has one muthafucka of a trip bout Dean blastin a thugged-out defenseless dude, n' they git all up in tha hood of River Grove, where they find tha townspeople done been possessed by a virus dat make dem violent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. NOW

INT. CLINIC - NIGHT

In slow motion, we peep DEAN up in a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dim hallway, grimly turnin towardz a thugged-out door n' pullin up a gun. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude slides up tha clip, taps it on tha gun, then replaces dat shit. Inside tha room, there be a Crata Lake posta on tha wall. Below it aint nuthin but a lil' blond playa (DUANE) tied ta a cold-ass lil chair. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Nearby is a lil' biatch (PAM), a middle-aged biatch (DR. LEE), n' a tough-lookin black playa (MARK). DUANE looks up as DEAN opens tha door n' enters, raisin tha gun. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. At regular speed, DUANE begins babbling. 

 **DUANE  
** Fuck dat shit, no, no, no, no, you not gonna... no, I swear playa! It aint nuthin but not up in me biaatch!

 **PAM  
** Oh Dogg. We all gonna take a thugged-out dirt nap. 

 **MARK  
** Maybe tha pimpin' muthafucka tellin' tha real deal.

 **DEAN**  
(advancing, cockin tha gun)  
Dat punk not him, not no mo'.

 **DUANE  
** Fuck dat shit, stop dat shiznit son! Quit dat shiznit son! Ask her, ask tha doctor playa! It aint nuthin but not up in me biaatch!

 **LEE  
** I just . . . I can't tell. 

 **DUANE  
** Fuck dat shit, please, don't. Don't. I swear, I,

 **DEAN  
** I gots no chizzle. 

 **DUANE**  
(sobbing)  
I swear, it aint up in me, it aint up in me biaaatch! Don't, don't. Please biaatch!

DEAN fires twice. Da image distorts up in a funky-ass bright flash, n' we close on...

INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT

SAM, whoz ass is lyin on tha floor beside a motel bed n' comin outta tha vision. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da door opens n' DEAN enters, chewin on jerky n' carryin a six-pack of brew n' shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM sits up, panting.

 **DEAN  
** Sam?

 **SAM  
** No . . .


	2. ACT ONE

EXT. BLACKTOP - NIGHT

DEAN is driving, SAM navigatin wit a GPS thang which speaks directions.

 **GPS VOICE  
** Continue on O-R Two-Two-Four West.

 **SAM  
** There is only two towns up in tha US named Rivergrove. 

 **DEAN  
** How tha fuck come you so shizzle itz tha one up in Oregon?

SAM has a gangbangin' flashback ta tha vision- tha Oregon posta on tha wall.

 **SAM  
** There was a picture. Crata Lake.

 **DEAN  
** Okay, what tha fuck else?

 **SAM  
** I saw a thugged-out dark room, some people, n' a muthafucka tied ta a cold-ass lil chair. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. 

 **DEAN  
** And I ventilated him?

 **SAM  
** Yeah. Yo ass thought there was suttin' inside his muthafuckin ass. 

 **DEAN  
** What, a thugged-out demon, biatch? Was he possessed?

 **SAM  
** I don't give a gangbangin' fuck.

 **DEAN  
** Well, all yo' weirdo visions is always tied ta tha Yellow-Eyed Demon somehow . . . so was there any black smoke, biatch? Did we try ta exorcise it?

 **SAM  
** No. Nothing, you just plugged him, thatz dat shit. 

 **DEAN  
** Well, I be shizzle I had a phat reason. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. 

 **SAM  
** I shizzle hope so.

 **DEAN**  
What do dat mean?  
(beat)  
I mean, I aint gonna waste a innocent man. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.   
(SAM raises his wild lil' fuckin eyebrows)  
I wouldn't playa!

 **SAM  
** I never holla'd you would dawwwg!

 **DEAN  
** Fine biaatch!

 **SAM  
** Fine biaaatch! Look, our phat asses don't give a fuck what tha fuck it is. But whatever it is, dat muthafucka up in tha chairz a part of dat shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So letz find him, n' peep whatz what. 

 **DEAN  
** Fine. 

 **SAM**  
Fine.   


  
EXT. RIVERGROVE STREET - DAY

Da Winchestas pull tha fuck into hood past a big-ass billboard advertisin Crata Lake. They pull up in front of a wooden shop; up front tha olda playa from tha vision (MARK) is cleanin a rifle; da thug wears a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirty-ass short-sleeved blue hoodie wit a multi-pocket brown vest. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM n' DEAN git up n' approach his muthafuckin ass.

 **DEAN  
** Morning. 

 **MARK  
** Dope morning. Can I help yo slick ass?

 **DEAN**  
Yeah.  
(pullin up a funky-ass badge)  
Uh, Bizzley Gibbons, Frank Beard. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! U.S. Marshals. 

 **MARK  
** Whatz dis about?

 **DEAN  
** We lookin fo' one of mah thugs. 

 **SAM**  
A lil' dude, early twenties. Put ya muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel dis!   
(he flashes ta tha vision)  
He'd have a, a thin scar right below his hairline. 

 **MARK  
** What'd da ruffneck do?

 **SAM  
** Well, nothing. We straight-up lookin fo' one of mah thugs yo, but we be thinkin dis lil' playa could help us. 

 **DEAN**  
Yeah, he not up in any kind of shiznit or anything; well, not yet.   
(he glances down at MARK'S left arm, which shows a gangbangin' finger-lickin' distinctizzle tattoo)  
I be thinkin maybe you know whoz ass he is . . . Masta Sergeant.   
(smiling)  
My fuckin daddy was up in tha Corps, da thug was a Corporal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. 

 **MARK  
** What company?

 **DEAN  
** Echo-2-1. 

 **SAM  
** So can you help us?

 **MARK**  
(hesitates)  
Duane Tannerz gots a scar like dis shit. But I know his muthafuckin ass. Dope kid, keeps his nozzle clean.

 **DEAN  
** Oh, I be shizzle da ruffneck do. Um. Yo ass know where he lives?

 **MARK  
** With his crew, up Aspen Way. 

 **DEAN  
** Nuff props, biatch.

They leave; MARK frowns as da thug watches dem go. Across tha street, SAM bumps tha fuck into a telephone pole n' glances at it up in passin yo. Dude stops; carved tha fuck into tha wood be a single word:

_CROATOAN_

They approach tha pole n' SAM points all up in tha word wit a thugged-out dope look.

 **SAM  
** Hey.

 **DEAN  
** Croatoan?

 **SAM**  
Yeah.  
(DEAN looks at his ass blankly.)  
Roanoke, biatch? Lost colony, biatch? Rin a funky-ass bell, biatch? Dean, did you pay any attention up in history class?

 **DEAN  
** Yeah! Shots heard 'round tha ghetto, How tha fuck bills becomes a laws . . .

 **SAM  
** Thatz not school, thatz Schoolhouse Rock.

 **DEAN  
** Whatever.

 **SAM  
** Roanoke was one of tha straight-up original gangsta Gangsta colonies up in America, late 1500s?

 **DEAN  
** Oh yeah, yeah, I do remember dis shit. Da only thang they left behind was a single word carved up in a tree. Croatoan.

 **SAM  
** Yeah fo' realz. And I mean, there was theories- Indian raid, disease yo, but no muthafucka knows what tha fuck straight-up happened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! They was all just gone. I mean, wiped up overnight. 

 **DEAN  
** Yo ass don't be thinkin thatz what tha fuck be happenin here, I mean . . . 

 **SAM  
** Whatever I saw up in mah head, it shizzle wasn't good. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! But what tha fuck do you be thinkin could do that?

 **DEAN  
** Well, I mean, like I holla'd, all of yo' weirdo visions is always tied ta tha Yellow-Eyed Demon somehow, so . . .

 **SAM  
** We should git help. Bobby, uh, Ellen maybe?

 **DEAN  
** Yeah, thatz a phat idea. 

DEAN pulls up his beeper, then frowns at dat shit.

 **DEAN  
** I aint gots a signal.

SAM do tha same, shakes his head.

 **SAM  
** I don't either n' shit. 

They strutt ta a pay phone, which DEAN picks up; our crazy asses hear tha "out of service" beeping, n' DEAN clicks tha receiver nuff muthafuckin times. 

 **DEAN**  
Linez dead as fuckin fried chicken.  
(he hangs up)  
I be bout ta rap one thang. If I was gonna massacre a town, that'd be mah first step.   


  
EXT. TANNER HOUSE - DAY

Da IMPALA is parked outside a cold-ass lil cabin--like doggy den up in tha middle of nowhere, n' SAM n' DEAN approach tha front. By tha door be a small, tacky plaque dat readz "BORN TO FISH; FORCED TO WORK". SAM knocks on tha door, n' a teenaged pimp wit dark spiked afro (JAKE) opens dat shit.

 **JAKE  
** Yeah?

 **DEAN**  
(flashin tha badge)  
We lookin fo' Duane Tanner; he lives here, right?

 **JAKE  
** Yeah, he mah brutha n' shit. 

 **DEAN  
** Can we rap ta him?

 **JAKE  
** Oh, he not here n' aint a thugged-out damn thang dat yo' ass can do. 

 **DEAN  
** Do you know where he is?

 **JAKE  
** Yeah, da thug went on a gangbangin' fishin trip up by Roslyn Lake. 

 **SAM  
** Yo crazy-ass muthafathas home?

 **JAKE  
** Yeah, they inside.

 **TANNER (inside)  
** Jake, biatch? Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck is it?

 **DEAN**  
(as MR. TANNER appears)  
Yea muthafucka, U.S. Marshals, sir, our slick asses lookin fo' yo' lil hustla Duane. 

 **TANNER  
** Wh-why, biatch? Dat punk not up in shit, is he?

 **DEAN  
** Fuck dat shit, no, no, no. Us playas just need ta ask his ass a cold-ass lil couple routine thangs, thatz all. 

 **SAM  
** Whenz da ruffneck due back from his cold-ass trip?

 **TANNER  
** I aint sure. 

 **SAM  
** Well, maybe yo' hoe knows.

 **TANNER  
** Fuck dat shit, I don't give a fuck, she not here n' aint a thugged-out damn thang dat yo' ass can do.

 **DEAN  
** Yo crazy-ass lil hustla holla'd dat biiiiatch was.

 **JAKE  
** Did I?

 **TANNER  
** Dat hoe gettin groceries. Put ya muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel dis! Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So, when Duane gets back, there be a a number where his schmoooove ass can git a hold of yo slick ass?

 **DEAN  
** Oh shiiiiiiiit, we'll just check up in wit you later n' shit. 

They turn n' strutt down tha steps as tha TANNERS shut tha door behind dem wild-ass muthafuckas.

 **DEAN  
** That was kind of creepy, right, biatch? A lil too Stepford?

 **SAM  
** Big time. 

Lookin furtively about, they sneak round ta tha back of tha house, crouchin below a window. Cut to:  


INT. TANNER HOUSE - DAY

BEVERLY TANNER is tied ta a cold-ass lil chair n' gagged; JAKE comes round behind her, handz on her shoulders.

 **JAKE  
** It aint nuthin but all gravy, Mom. It aint nuthin but not gonna hurt. 

TANNER comes outta tha next room wit a kitchen knife. JAKE standz up in front of his crazy-ass mutha n' casually rolls up one sleeve; his wild lil' daddy cuts tha fuck into his thugged-out arm n' lets tha blood drip onto a wound up in BEVERLY'S shoulder.

OUTSIDE, SAM n' DEAN arm theyselves n' kick down tha back door fo' realz. As they rush in, handguns raised, MR. TANNER rushes at dem wit a knife; DEAN blasts his ass thrice up in tha chest. JAKE jumps up tha window, shatterin glass, n' darts off tha fuck into tha woods. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM aims at his ass all up in tha window but hesitates, givin his ass time ta git away.


	3. ACT TWO

EXT yo. HOSPITAL - DAY

BEVERLY is up in tha back seat of tha IMPALA; as they pull up in front of tha clinic SAM helps her up n' leadz her ta tha door. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. DEAN opens tha trunk n' looks round furtively.  


INT. CLINIC - DAY

SAM leadz BEVERLY inside; tha clinic is on tha fuckin' down-low, dim, n' empty.

 **SAM  
** Hello, biatch? Hello, biatch? We need a thugged-out doctor here biaatch!

Da lil' biatch from tha vision (PAM) rushes out, concerned.

 **PAM  
** Mrs. Tanner, what tha fuck happened?

 **SAM  
** Dat hoe been attacked.

 **PAM  
** Doctor Lee?

 **LEE**  
(rushin in)  
Brin her in.

 **SAM  
** Okay.

PAM leadz SAM n' BEVERLY tha fuck into a funky-ass back room, n' DR. LEE bigs up. DEAN enters, carryin tha (canvas-covered) body of MR. TANNER hoisted over his shoulders. 

 **LEE  
** Is dat-

 **DEAN  
** Mista Muthafuckin Tanner?

 **LEE  
** Was he beat down too?

 **DEAN  
** Uh . . . no, actually, da ruffneck did tha comin' at n' then he gots his dirty ass shot. 

 **LEE  
** Shot?

 **DEAN  
** Yeah.

 **LEE  
** And whoz ass is yo slick ass?

 **DEAN  
** U.S. Marshal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. I'd show you mah badge yo, but uh . . .

 **LEE  
** Oh. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sorry. Brin his ass back here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. 

  
INT. LAB - DAY

BEVERLY is seated on a stool wit her hoodie off; DR. LEE sits across from her, treatin tha wound on her left shoulder n' shit. 

 **LEE  
** Wait, you holla'd Jake helped him, biatch? Yo crazy-ass lil hustla Jake?

 **BEVERLY**  
(nodding)  
They beat mah dirty ass. Tied mah crazy ass up.

 **PAM  
** I don't believe dat shit. 

 **LEE  
** Pam. Beverly . . . do you have any scam why they would act dis way, biatch? Any history of chemical dependency, biatch? 

 **BEVERLY  
** Fuck dat shit, of course not. I don't give a fuck why. One minute they was mah homeboy n' mah son. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. And tha next, they had tha devil up in dem wild-ass muthafuckas. 

SAM n' DEAN is listenin ta this, n' they share a peep her last lyrics.

 **DEAN**  
We gotta talk.  
(they exit tha lab)  
Those muthafuckas was whacked outta they gourds. 

 **SAM  
** What do you think, biatch? Multiple demons, mass possession?

 **DEAN  
** If it aint nuthin but a possession there could be mo' n' mo' n' mo'. I mean, Dogg knows how tha fuck many, it could be like a gangbangin' friggin' Shriner convention. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. 

 **SAM  
** Great.

 **DEAN  
** Of course, thatz one way ta wipe up a town, you take it from tha inside. 

 **SAM  
** I don't give a fuck, man. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Us dudes didn't peep any of tha demon smoke wit Mista Muthafuckin Tanner, or any of tha other usual signs. 

 **DEAN  
** Well, whatever n' shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Somethang turned his ass tha fuck into a monsta n' shiznit fo' realz. And you know if you woulda taken up tha other one there'd be one less ta worry about.

 **SAM  
** I be sorry, all right, biatch? I hesitated, Dean, dat shiznit was a kid dawwwg!

 **DEAN  
** Fuck dat shit, dat shiznit was a "it". Not tha dopest time fo' a funky-ass bleedin ass, Sam. 

LEE stalks outta tha lab, her heels clickin loudly on tha floor. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. 

 **SAM  
** Howz tha patient?

 **LEE  
** Terrible biaaatch! What tha hell happened up there?

 **DEAN  
** Us dudes don't give a gangbangin' fuck. 

 **LEE  
** Yeah, biatch? Well, you just capped mah next door neighbor. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. 

 **DEAN  
** Us dudes didn't gotz a cold-ass lil chizzle.

 **LEE  
** Maybe so yo, but we need tha county Sheriff. I need tha coroner . . .

 **SAM  
** Phones is down. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. 

 **LEE  
** I know, I tried. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Tell me you gotz a five-o radio up in tha car?

 **SAM  
** Yeah our phat asses do. But it crapped up just like every last muthafuckin thang else. 

 **LEE  
** I don't KNOW what tha fuck is happening. 

 **DEAN  
** How tha fuck far is it ta tha next town?

 **LEE  
** It aint nuthin but bout forty milez down ta Sidewinder.

 **DEAN**  
All right, I'ma go down there, peep if I can find some help.   
(clappin SAM on tha shoulder)  
My fuckin partner'll stick around, keep you muthafuckas safe. 

 **LEE  
** Safe from what?

 **DEAN**  
We bout ta git back ta you on dis shit.   


  
EXT. BLACKTOP - DAY

DEAN pulls up behind a wrecked hoopty wit Oregon plates dat read "WTF 4C7"; da perved-out muthafucka stops ta investigate, carryin a gun. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da windows on tha hoopty is smashed n' blood covers tha seats; on tha ground by tha driverz side be a big-ass bloody knife yo. Dude picks it up.  


  
INT. CLINIC - DAY

SAM is leanin against a cold-ass lil counter, starin all up in tha body of MR. TANNER yo. Dude begins pacing; DR. LEE is nearby, lookin at suttin' up in a microscope.

 **LEE  
** Huh. 

 **SAM  
** What?

 **LEE  
** His lymphocyte cementage is pretty high yo. His body was fightin off a viral infection. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. 

 **SAM  
** Really, biatch? What kind of virus?

 **LEE  
** Can't say fo' sure.

 **SAM  
** Do you be thinkin a infection could have made his ass act like that?

 **LEE  
** None dat I've eva heard of. I mean, some can cause dementia yo, but not dat kind of shiznit fo' realz. And besides, I've never heard of one dat did dis ta tha blood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! 

 **SAM  
** Did what?

 **LEE  
** Therez dis . . . weird residue. If I didn't give a fuck betta I'd say dat shiznit was sulfur.

 **SAM**  
Sulfur. Shiiit, dis aint no joke.   


  
EXT. BLACKTOP - DAY

DEAN drives along tha road ta a funky-ass bridge, which is blocked by a roadblock consistin of nuff muthafuckin rides n' a half-dozen locals wit guns. One is JAKE yo. Dude stops tha car, frowning. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Somethang bangs down on tha roof of tha hoopty n' he jumps; a playa leans over tha fuck into frame.

 **DEAN  
** Oh-ho-ho yo. Hey. 

 **MAN  
** Sorry. Roadz closed.

 **DEAN  
** Yeah, I can peep dis shit. Whatz good?

 **MAN  
** Quarantine.

 **DEAN  
** Quarantine, biatch? What tha fuck iz it?

 **MAN  
** Don't know. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Somethang goin round up there.

 **DEAN  
** Uh-huh. Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck holla'd at you that?

 **MAN  
** County Sheriff.

 **DEAN  
** Is dat schmoooove muthafucka here, biatch? 

 **MAN  
** No yo. Dude called. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Say, why don't you git outta tha hoopty n' we'll rap a lil?

 **DEAN**  
(laughs nervously)  
Well, yo ass be a thugged-out devil yo, but I don't swin dat way, sorry bout dat bullshit. 

 **MAN  
** I'd shizzle appreciate it if you gots outta tha car, just fo' a quick minute.

 **DEAN  
** Yeah, I be bout ta bet you would.

DEAN puts tha hoopty tha fuck into a quick reverse; tha MAN grabs his collar n' is dragged along. Da pimps all up in tha roadblock begin firing, n' DEAN swings tha hoopty around, bobbin tha MAN off n' zoomin away.   


  
INT. CLINIC - DAY

SAM is starin intently at BEVERLY, still huddled on tha stool up in tha lab. 

 **BEVERLY  
** I don't understand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Is you sayin mah homeboy n' Jake had a gangbangin' finger-lickin' disease?

 **LEE  
** Thatz what tha fuck we tryin ta smoke up. Now, durin tha attack, do you remember . . . did you have any direct contact wit they blood?

 **BEVERLY  
** Oh mah Dogg. Yo ass don't be thinkin I've gots dis virus, do yo slick ass?

 **LEE  
** Beverly, I don't give a fuck what tha fuck ta think. But wit yo' permission, we'll take a funky-ass blood sample. 

BEVERLY nodz n' lays her hand gently on DR. LEE'S. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Suddenly she grabs DR. LEE'S wrist n' yells up in rage, lashin up wit her other hand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! SAM advances on her n' dat dunkadelic hoe tosses his ass against a glass cabinet, which shatters. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch picks up a scalpel as tha pimpin' muthafucka takes a gangbangin' fire extinguisher from tha wall; she advances on him, still yellin yo. Dude knocks her out.  


  
EXT. TOWN ROAD - DAY

DEAN is rollin back tha fuck into town; MARK steps tha fuck into his thugged-out lil' path brandishin a rifle, n' da perved-out muthafucka stops tha car.

 **MARK  
** Handz where I can peep 'em!

 **DEAN  
** Okay hommie!

 **MARK  
** Git outta tha hoopty playa! Out of tha hoopty son!

 **DEAN**  
(openin tha door n' gettin up slowly)  
All right, easy as fuck there, big-ass muthafucka.

As da perved-out muthafucka stands, DEAN pulls up a handgun n' points it at MARK.

 **DEAN  
** All right, put it down!

 **MARK  
** Lower it now!

 **DEAN  
** Put it down!

 **MARK  
** Is you one of 'em?

 **DEAN  
** No! Is yo slick ass?

 **MARK  
** No!

 **DEAN  
** Yo ass could be lying!

 **MARK  
** So could you, nahmean biiiatch?

 **DEAN  
** All right son! All right. We could do dis all day, all right, biatch? Letz just uh, letz take it easy as fuck before we bust a cap up in each other n' shit. 

 **MARK**  
(relaxin slightly)  
Whatz goin on wit everybody?

 **DEAN  
** I don't give a gangbangin' fuck.

 **MARK  
** My fuckin neighbor . . . Mista Muthafuckin Rogers, he-

 **DEAN  
** You've gots a neighbor named Mista Muthafuckin Rogers?

 **MARK**  
Not no mo'.  
(DEAN shakes his head)  
Dude came all up in mah grill wit a hatchet. I put his ass down. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Dat punk not tha only one, I mean, itz goin' down ta everyone. 

 **DEAN  
** I be headin over ta tha Docs place, there be a still some playas left.

 **MARK  
** Fuck dat shit, no way. I be gettin tha hell out. 

 **DEAN  
** Therez no way out, they gots tha bridge covered, come on.

 **MARK  
** I don't believe you, biatch. 

 **DEAN  
** Fine, stay here, be mah guest. 

MARK hesitates, then chizzlez his crazy-ass mind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude pulls up a handgun n' keeps it pointed towardz DEAN as he gets tha fuck into tha passengerz side; DEAN still has his wild lil' freakadelic glock up as well. 

 **DEAN**  
(muttering)  
Well, dis ought ta be a chillaxin drive.  


  
INT. CLINIC - DAY

LEE be again n' again n' again lookin all up in tha microscope; PAM huddlez against tha far wall.

 **PAM  
** What if we all have it, biatch? What if we all go crazy?

 **LEE  
** You've gots ta stay calm fo' realz. All we can do is wait. Da Marshalz brangin help.

 **PAM  
** I can't, I . . . Ya Mom shoulda told ya, I gots ta bounce tha fuck out.

 **LEE  
** Pam!

 **PAM  
** Fuck dat shit, you don't understand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! My fuckin boyfriendz up there, I gotta make shizzle he aiiight. 

She hurries outta tha lab, n' SAM bigs up her all tha way ta tha lobby.

 **SAM  
** All right, wait, wait. Please. Look, I know you upset, all right, biatch? But itz less thuggy if you stay here fo' now yo. Help is coming.

Our thugged-out asses hear tha IMPALA pull up outside. 

 **SAM  
** There they are.

 **DEAN (off-camera)  
** Sammy, biatch? Open up!

SAM opens tha door ta let up in DEAN n' MARK; both is still armed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 

 **SAM  
** Did yo dirty ass muthafuckas, uh, git ta a phone?

 **DEAN**  
Road block.  
(to MARK)  
I'ma gotz a word. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Docs inside.

 **SAM  
** Whatz goin on up there, Dean?

 **DEAN  
** Man, I don't give a fuck, I feel like Chuck Heston up in tha Omega Man, I mean, Sarge is tha only sane thug I could find. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! What is our phat asses dealin with, do you know?

 **SAM  
** Yeah. Doc be thinkin itz a virus. 

 **DEAN  
** Okay, pimped out. What do you think?

 **SAM  
** I be thinkin she right.

 **DEAN  
** Really?

 **SAM  
** Yeah fo' realz. And I be thinkin tha infected is tryin ta infect others wit blood-to-blood contact. Oh yo, but it gets mo' betta n' shit. Da uh, tha virus, biatch? Leaves tracez of sulfur up in tha blood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! 

 **DEAN  
** A demonic virus?

 **SAM  
** Yeah, mo' like demonic germ warfare fo' realz. At least it explains why I've been havin visions. 

 **DEAN  
** It aint nuthin but like a Biblical plague. 

 **SAM  
** Yeah. Yo ass don't give a fuck how tha fuck right yo ass is, Dean. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Ya Mom shoulda told ya, I been porin all up in Dadz journal, found suttin' bout tha Roanoke colony. 

 **DEAN  
** And?

 **SAM  
** Dad always had a theory bout Croatoan. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude thought dat shiznit was a thugged-out demonz name. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sometimes known as Deva or sometimes Resheph fo' realz. A demon of plague n' pestilence. 

 **DEAN  
** Well, that, thatz terrific. Why here, why now?

 **SAM  
** I have no idea. But Dean, whoz ass knows how tha fuck far dis thang can spread, biatch? We gotta git outta here, we gotta warn people. 

 **MARK (off-screen)  
** They've gots one biaaatch! In here biaatch!

 **DEAN**  
(enterin tha next room)  
What do you mean?

 **SAM  
** Da hoe. Dat hoe infected.

 **MARK  
** We've gotta take care of all dis bullshit. We can't just leave her up in there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. My fuckin neighbors, they was strong. Da longer we wait, tha stronger she'll get. 

DEAN barely hesitates before pullin up his wild lil' freakadelic glock n' stalkin tha fuck into tha lab.  


  
INT. LAB - DAY

 **PAM  
** Yo ass is gonna bust a cap up in Beverly Tanner?

 **SAM  
** Doctor, could there be any treatment, biatch? Some kind of cure fo' this?

 **DEAN  
** Yo ass betta cure it?

 **LEE  
** For Godz sake, I don't even know what tha fuck "it" is!

 **MARK  
** I holla'd at you, itz just a matta of time before da hoe breaks all up in cause I gots dem finger-lickin' chickens wit tha siz-auce. 

 **PAM  
** Just leave her up in there, you can't blast her like a animal!

 **DEAN  
** Sam.

They git all up in tha door of tha utilitizzle room, where BEVERLY is bein held. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! DEAN n' MARK hold they glocks ready; SAM carefully opens tha door, n' DEAN n' MARK take up bitch ass positions. Inside, BEVERLY is huddled on tha floor, knees drawn up. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch jumps at they approach.

 **BEVERLY  
** Mark, what tha fuck is you bustin, biatch? Mark, it's, itz them! They locked mah crazy ass up in here, they, they tried ta bust a cap up in me biaaatch! They're infected, not me biaaatch! Please, Mark! You've known me all yo' game biaaatch! Please biaatch!

 **DEAN  
** Yo ass shizzle she one of 'em?

SAM nods, his wild lil' grill twisted up in distress fo' realz. As MARK pulls back, near tears, DEAN steps forward n' fires twice.


	4. ACT THREE

INT. CLINIC - NIGHT

Da shades is drawn, n' MARK peers all up in dem cautiously fo' realz. A few playas is gathered outside. Behind him, SAM pulls up a hustlin knife n' checks tha blade as DEAN loadz a gun. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. In tha lab, PAM has just dropped a vial of blood; her big-ass booty screams.

 **PAM  
** Oh god hommie! Is there any on me son, biatch? Am I aiiight?

 **LEE  
** Yo ass is clean, you aiiight.

 **PAM  
** Why is we stayin here, biatch? Please, letz just go!

 **DEAN  
** Fuck dat shit, we can't, cuz dem thangs is everywhere, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. 

 **PAM**  
(sinkin down)  
Oh god . . .

 **LEE  
** Shh, shh.

 **SAM**  
(quietly)  
Dat hoe right bout one thang. We can't stay here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. We've gotta git outta here, git ta tha Roadhouse, biatch? Somewhere, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Let playas know whatz coming. 

 **DEAN  
** Yeah, phat point. Night of tha Livin Dead didn't exactly end pretty. 

 **MARK  
** Well, I aint shizzle we've gots a cold-ass lil chizzle. Lotz of folks up here is phat wit riflez- even wit all yo' hardware we're, we easy as fuck targets, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So unless you've gots some explosives . . . 

SAM glances up at a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirty-ass shelf of medicinal supplies n' gets a idea.

 **SAM  
** We could make some. 

Dude goes ta tha shelf n' takes down a funky-ass forty of Potassium Chloride; just then, one of mah thugs starts poundin frantically on tha front door. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Da Thugs run out.

 **DUANE (off-screen)  
** Yo dawwwwg! Let me in, let me in! Please biaatch!

 **MARK  
** It aint nuthin but Duane Tanner son!

Dude opens tha door n' lets DUANE in. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude has a funky-ass backpack n' is limping. 

 **DUANE  
** Thank god.

 **MARK  
** Duane, you aiiight?

 **DEAN**  
(quietly, ta SAM)  
Thatz tha muthafucka dat I, uh, *clicks tongue*

 **SAM  
** Yeah. 

 **DUANE  
** Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck else is up in here?

 **DEAN**  
(grabbin his thugged-out arm)  
Yo, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, easy as fuck there, chizzle. Yo Doc! Give Duane a phat once-over, would yo slick ass?

 **LEE**  
(leadin tha crew tha fuck into tha lab)  
Pam?

 **DUANE  
** Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck is yo slick ass?

 **DEAN  
** Never mind whoz ass I am. Doc.

 **LEE  
** Yeah, aiiight.

 **MARK  
** Duane. Where you been?

 **DUANE  
** On a gangbangin' fishin trip up by Roslyn. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I came back dis afternoon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I . . . I saw Roger McGill bein dragged outta his fuckin lil' doggy den by playas we know! They started cuttin his ass wit knives muthafucka! I ran, I've been hidin up in tha woodz eva since yo. Has anybody peeped mah momma n' dad?

 **DEAN**  
(turns ta SAM, attemptin a cold-ass lil clownin tone)  
Awkward . . . 

DUANE is chillin on a stool; his fuckin left leg has a thugged-out deep gash up in dat shit.

 **LEE  
** Yo ass is bleeding.

 **DEAN  
** Where'd you git that?

 **DUANE  
** I was hustlin, I must have tripped. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 

 **DEAN  
** Tie his ass up, there be a rope up in there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. 

 **DUANE  
** Wait . . . 

 **DEAN**  
(pullin his wild lil' freakadelic glock on DUANE)  
Sit down!

 **MARK  
** I be sorry, Duane, he right. We've gotta be careful naaahhmean, biatch? 

 **DUANE  
** Careful, biatch? Bout what?

 **DEAN  
** Did they bleed on yo slick ass?

 **DUANE  
** Fuck dat shit, what tha fuck tha hell, biatch? No!

 **SAM  
** Doc, biatch? Any way ta know fo' sure, any test?

 **LEE  
** I've studied Beverlyz bloodwork backwardz n' forwards. 

 **DUANE  
** My fuckin mom!

 **LEE  
** It took three minutes fo' tha virus ta incubate. Da sulfur didn't step tha fuck up in tha blood until then, so . . . no, there'd be no way of knowing. Not until afta Duane turns. 

 **SAM  
** Dean, I gotta rap ta you, biatch. Now.

DEAN glances at MARK, whoz ass nods. DEAN n' SAM leave tha lab.

 **MARK**  
Sit up in dat chair. Shiiit, dis aint no joke.   


  
INT fo' realz. ANOTHER ROOM - NIGHT

 **SAM  
** This is mah vision, Dean. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. It aint nuthin but happening. 

 **DEAN  
** Yeah, I figured.

 **SAM  
** Yo ass can't bust a cap up in him, all right, biatch? Not yet. Us dudes don't give a fuck if he infected or not. 

 **DEAN  
** Well, I be thinkin we pretty damn sure. Guy shows up outta nowhere, he gots a cold-ass lil cut on his fuckin leg, his whole crewz infected?

 **SAM  
** All right, then we should keep his ass tied up, n' we should wait n' see. 

 **DEAN  
** For what, biatch? For his ass ta Hulk up n' infect some muthafucka else, biatch? No props, can't take dat chance. 

Dude starts ta push past SAM, whoz ass stops his ass wit a hand on his chest. 

 **DEAN  
** Yo look, dude, I aint aiiight bout this, aiiight, biatch? But itz a tough thang n' you know all dis bullshit.

 **SAM  
** It aint nuthin but supposed ta be tough, Dean. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. We supposed ta struggle wit this, thatz tha whole point.

 **DEAN  
** What do dat loot us?

 **SAM  
** A clear conscience, fo' one biaatch!

 **DEAN  
** Well, itz too late fo' dis shit. 

 **SAM**  
(stoppin his ass again)  
What tha hellz happened ta yo slick ass?

 **DEAN  
** What?

 **SAM  
** Yo ass might bust a cap up in a innocent dude, n' you don't even care biaaatch! Yo ass don't act like yo ass no mo', Dean. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Hell, you know what, biatch? Yo ass be actin like one of dem thangs up there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. 

 **DEAN  
** Mm-hmm.

DEAN pushes past SAM a third time; SAM tries ta stop his ass again n' again n' again but DEAN hurls his ass against tha far wall yo. Dude goes back tha fuck into tha hall n' locks tha door behind his muthafuckin ass. 

 **SAM**  
Yo dawwwwg!   
(rattlin tha lock)  
Open tha damn door, Dean! Don't do it, Dean! Don't playa!

DEAN is now up in tha hallway from tha vision up in tha TEASER yo. Dude drops tha clip outta tha glock n' taps it against tha butt, then replaces it yo. Dude opens tha door ta tha lab n' shuts it behind him; DUANE is tied ta tha chair n' Mark, PAM n' DR. LEE stand nearby.

 **DUANE  
** Fuck dat shit, you not gonna . . . Fuck dat shit, no, I swear it aint up in me biaatch!

 **PAM  
** Oh Dogg. We all gonna take a thugged-out dirt nap.

 **MARK  
** Maybe tha pimpin' muthafucka spittin some lyrics ta tha real deal.

 **DEAN  
** Fuck dat shit, he not him, not no mo'.

 **DUANE  
** Quit dat shiznit son! Ask her, ask tha doctor playa! It aint nuthin but not up in me biaatch!

 **LEE  
** I . . . I can't tell. 

 **DUANE**  
(sobbing)  
Please, don't. Don't,. Biiiatch please.I swear, it aint up in me, it aint up in me, I swear, I, I swear it aint up in mah dirty ass. Fuck dat shit, don't. 

 **DEAN  
** I gots no chizzle.

Da moment stretches on: DEAN pointin tha glock at DUANE wit his wild lil' finger hoverin over tha trigger, DUANE sobbing, tha others watchin up in tense silence. DEAN trembles, hesitates, n' finally lowers tha glock wit a grimace.

 **DEAN  
** Damn dat shiznit son!

DUANE baggy-ass pants up in relief as DEAN leaves tha room.  


  
LATER:

DEAN n' SAM is preparin explosives wit rags n' glass bottles. DR. LEE enters, handz up in her pockets.

 **LEE  
** It aint nuthin but been over four hours. Duanez blood is still clean. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I don't be thinkin he infected. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. I'd like ta untie him, if thatz all right. 

DEAN n' SAM share a look; SAM nods, DEAN lowers his head.

 **SAM**  
Sure. Yeah.   
(she leaves)  
Yo ass know I'ma ask you why.

 **DEAN  
** Yeah, I know.

 **SAM  
** So why, biatch? Why didn't you do it?

 **DEAN  
** We need mo' alcohol. 

SAM gets up n' goes tha fuck into tha dispensary n' findz PAM already there.

 **SAM  
** How tha fuck you holdin up, Pam?

 **PAM  
** Good. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! It'll all be over soon.

She shuts tha door n' locks it; SAM, his back turned, don't notice. 

 **PAM  
** In fact, I've been waitin fo' dis tha whole time.

 **SAM  
** For what?

 **PAM  
** To git you ridin' solo.

She lashes up n' knocks his ass ta tha ground. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch straddlez his chest n' hits him, hard, across tha face. Outside tha room, DEAN n' MARK hear tha commotion n' arm theyselves. PAM has a scalpel up in one hand, which her big-ass booty slices across SAM'S chest n' then across her own palm, placin her wound over his. DEAN kicks tha door open n' blasts her three times up in tha back. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch convulses n' falls ta tha floor. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. SAM reaches up a hand ta DEAN, whoz ass starts ta lean over ta take it; MARK pulls his ass back. 

 **MARK  
** Bitch bled on his muthafuckin ass. Dat punk gots tha virus.

SAM pulls his hand back, realizin itz true; close on DEAN'S face, stunned, lookin from SAM ta PAM.


	5. ACT FOUR

INT. LAB - NIGHT

SAM is now chillin on tha stool, a funky-ass bandage pressed ta his chest yo. His eyes is down, n' he looks near tears. Da others surround him, DEAN pacin angrily.

 **DEAN**  
Doc, check his wound again, would yo slick ass?  
(pause)  
Doctor son!

 **MARK  
** Whatz she need ta examine his ass for, biatch? Yo ass saw what tha fuck happened.

 **LEE  
** Did her blood straight-up enta yo' wound?

 **MARK  
** Come on, of course it did dawwwg!

 **DEAN  
** Us dudes don't give a fuck dat fo' sure. 

 **DUANE  
** We can't take a cold-ass lil chance. 

 **MARK  
** Yo ass know what tha fuck we gotta do.

 **DEAN  
** No Muthafucka is blastin mah brutha n' shit. 

 **DUANE  
** Dude aint gonna be yo' brutha much longer n' shit. Yo ass holla'd it yo ass.

 **DEAN  
** No Muthafucka is blastin mah playas biaatch!

 **DUANE  
** Yo ass was gonna blast me biaatch!

 **DEAN  
** Yo ass don't shut yo' pie-hole, I still might playa!

 **SAM  
** Dean, they right. I be infected; just break off tha glock n' I be bout ta do it mah dirty ass. 

 **DEAN  
** Forget dat shit.

 **SAM  
** Dean, I aint gonna become one of dem thangs. 

 **DEAN  
** Sam, we've still gots some time, 

 **MARK  
** Time fo' what, biatch? Look, I KNOW he yo' brother, n' I be sorry, I am. But we gotta take care of all dis bullshit.

MARK pulls up his handgun.

 **DEAN  
** I'ma say dis one time- you cook up a move on him, you gonna be dead before you hit tha ground. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Yo ass KNOW me son, biatch? I mean, do I make mah dirty ass clear?!

 **MARK  
** Then what tha fuck is we supposed ta do?!

DEAN tosses MARK his keys. 

 **DEAN  
** Git tha hell outta here, thatz what. Take mah car. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. You've gots tha explosives, there be a a arsenal up in there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Yo ass two go wit his muthafuckin ass. You've gots enough firepower ta handle anythang now, nahmeean, biatch? 

 **MARK  
** What bout yo slick ass?

 **SAM**  
(afta a funky-ass beat)  
Dean, no. No. Go wit dem wild-ass muthafuckas. This is yo' only chizzle biaatch!

 **DEAN  
** Yo ass aint gonna git rid of me dat easy as fuck . 

 **MARK**  
Fuck dat shit, he right. Come wit us.   
(beat)  
Okay, itz yo' funeral.

Dude leadz DUANE n' DR. LEE up tha door. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. 

 **LEE  
** I be sorry as a muthafucka bout dat bullshit. Thanks fo' every last muthafuckin thang, Marshals. 

 **DEAN  
** Oh, straight-up our asses aint straight-up Marshals. 

 **LEE  
** Um. Oh. 

She leaves, n' DEAN shuts tha door behind her n' shiznit yo. Dude turns slowly ta grill SAM, whoz ass starts ta cry like a muthafucka.

 **DEAN  
** Wish our crazy asses had a thugged-out deck of cards, or a gangbangin' foosbizzle table or something. 

 **SAM  
** Dean, don't do all dis bullshit. Just git tha hell outta here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. 

 **DEAN  
** No way.

 **SAM  
** Give me mah gun, n' muthafuckin bounce. 

 **DEAN  
** For tha last time, Sam. No. 

 **SAM**  
(slammin tha table)  
This is tha dumbest thang you've eva done. 

 **DEAN**  
Oh, I don't give a fuck bout dis shit. Remember dat waitress up in Tampa?  
(shudders)

 **SAM  
** Dean, I be sick. It aint nuthin but over fo' mah dirty ass. Well shiiiit, it don't gotta be fo' you, biatch. 

 **DEAN  
** No?

 **SAM  
** Fuck dat shit, you can keep going.

 **DEAN  
** Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck say I want to?

 **SAM  
** What?

DEAN crosses ta tha other wall n' pulls a handgun outta his waistband before chillin on tha file cabinet.

 **DEAN  
** I be tired, Sam. I be pissed wit dis thang, dis game . . . dis weight on mah shoulders, man. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I be pissed wit dat shit. 

 **SAM  
** So what, so you just goin ta give up, biatch? Yo ass is just gonna lay down n' die, biatch? Look, Dean, I know dis shiznit wit Dad has-

 **DEAN  
** Yo ass is wrong. It aint nuthin but not bout Dad. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I mean, part of it is, shizzle yo, but . . . 

 **SAM  
** What tha fuck iz it about?

They hear a noise outside; a moment lata there be a a knockin on tha door. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. DEAN picks up both handguns n' crosses ta it; DR. LEE is there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho yo. Dude opens tha door. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. 

**LEE  
** You'd betta come peep all dis bullshit. 

  
EXT. CLINIC - NIGHT

All five survivors is standin just outside tha clinic; every last muthafuckin thang else up in sight is dirtnaply silent. 

 **LEE  
** Therez no one. Not anywhere, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. They've all just . . . vanished. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 

Close blasted of a telephone pole tha fuck into which is carved "CROATOAN".  


  
INT. CLINIC - MORNING

LEE is lookin all up in tha microscope; SAM is seated on tha exam table. 

 **LEE  
** Well, itz been five minutes n' yo' bloodz still clean. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. i don't KNOW it but I be thinkin you dodged a funky-ass bullet.

 **SAM  
** But I was exposed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! How tha fuck could I not be infected?

 **LEE**  
I don't give a gangbangin' fuck. But you just not. I mean, you compare it wit tha Tanner samplez . . .  
(she looks all up in another microscope)  
What tha hell?

 **SAM  
** What?

 **LEE  
** Their blood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! Therez no trace of tha virus. No sulfur, nothing. 

  
EXT. CLINIC - DAY

MARK n' DUANE is loadin up a truck; DR. LEE standz up in tha doorway of tha clinic. 

 **DUANE  
** Yo, tha Sarge n' I is gettin tha hell outta here, headin south. Yo ass should come. 

 **LEE  
** I'd betta git over ta Sidewinder, git tha authoritizzles up here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. If they'll believe mah dirty ass. Take care. 

MARK waves ta her n' ta DEAN n' SAM, whoz ass is leanin against tha IMPALA.

 **DEAN  
** What bout him?

 **LEE  
** Dat punk goin ta be fine. No signz of infection. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. 

LEE goes back inside as MARK n' DUANE pull away up in tha truck. DEAN turns ta SAM.

 **SAM  
** Yo dude, don't look all up in mah face. I gots no clue. 

 **DEAN  
** I swear, I'ma lose chill over dis one. I mean, why here, why now, biatch? And where tha hell did dem hoes go, biatch? It aint nuthin but like they just friggin' melted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. 

 **SAM  
** Why was I immune?

 **DEAN  
** Yeah. Yo ass know what, biatch? Thatz a phat question. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Yo ass know, I be already startin ta feel like dis is tha one dat gots away?

They git up in tha hoopty n' pull away from town.  


  
EXT. BLACKTOP - NIGHT

MARK drives his thugged-out lil' pickup down a thugged-out dark two-lane road; DUANE is up in tha passengerz seat.

 **DUANE  
** Yo ass mind pullin up ahead there?

 **MARK  
** All right.

Dude pulls onto tha shoulder n' stops tha truck.

 **DUANE  
** I gotta cook up a cold-ass lil call.

 **MARK  
** No beeper up here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. 

 **DUANE  
** I gots it covered. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 

Dude pulls up a lil' small-ass knife.

 **MARK  
** What tha hell is that?

In a quick motion, DUANE lashes out, slittin MARK'S throat; his schmoooove ass catches tha blood up in a metal bowl, just like tha one MEG used ta use yo. Dude sits back n' dips his hand up in tha blood, swirlin it around. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 

 **DUANE**  
It aint nuthin but over, you gonna be pleased. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I don't be thinkin any mo' tests is necessary.   
(beat)  
Da Winchesta boy, definitely immune, as expected. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time.   
(pause)  
Yes, of course. Nothang left behind.

Close on DUANE'S face, whose eyes have gone demonic-black. 


	6. ACT FIVE

EXT. BRIDGE - DAY

Da IMPALA is parked by tha side of a road, overlookin a river n' shit. DEAN n' SAM lean against a gangbangin' fence, drankin brew.

 **SAM  
** So. Last night. Yo ass wanna tell me what tha fuck tha hell you was poppin' off about?

 **DEAN  
** What do you mean?

 **SAM  
** What do I mean, biatch? I mean you holla'd you was pissed wit tha thang fo' realz. And dat it wasn't just cuz of Dad. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 

 **DEAN  
** Forget dat shit.

 **SAM  
** Fuck dat shit, I can't. No way. 

 **DEAN  
** Come on dude, I thought we was both goin ta die, you can't hold dat over mah dirty ass. 

 **SAM  
** Fuck dat shit, no, no, no. Yo ass can't pull dat crap wit me, man. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Yo ass is rappin'. 

 **DEAN  
** And what tha fuck if I don't?

 **SAM  
** Then I guess I be bout ta just gotta keep askin until you do.

 **DEAN  
** I don't give a fuck, man. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I just be thinkin maybe we ought ta . . . git all up in tha Grand Canyon.

 **SAM  
** What?

 **DEAN  
** Yeah, you know, all dis rollin back n' forth across ghetto, you know I've never been ta tha Grand Canyon, biatch? Or we could git all up in T.J. Or Hollywood, peep if we can bang Lindsey Lohan. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. 

 **SAM  
** Yo ass aint makin any sense. 

 **DEAN  
** I just be thinkin we should take a funky-ass break from all all dis bullshit. Why do we gotta git stuck wit all tha responsibility, you know, biatch? Why can't our slick asses live game a lil bit?

 **SAM  
** Why is you sayin all this?

DEAN shakes his head, turnin away.

 **SAM  
** Fuck dat shit, no, no, no, Dean. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Yo ass is mah brother, all right, biatch? So whatever weight you carrying, let me help a lil bit. 

 **DEAN  
** I can't. I promised. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 

 **SAM  
** Who?

 **DEAN  
** Dad. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 

 **SAM  
** What is you poppin' off about?

 **DEAN**  
(lookin down)  
Right before Dad died, tha pimpin' muthafucka holla'd at mah crazy ass something.   
(takes a funky-ass breath, then looks at SAM)  
Dude holla'd at mah crazy ass suttin' bout you, biatch. 

 **SAM  
** What, biatch? Dean, what tha fuck did tha pimpin' muthafucka tell yo slick ass?


End file.
